


Two Guys And The Sword of Zoltan: A Love Story

by Arithra



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Dimilix B-Support, Dimitri/Zoltan/Felix is OT3, Humor, M/M, Pettiness, Pining, Slow Burn, Thirsting, in all variations... with eventual rivalmance Dimitri/Zoltan, the Sword of Zoltan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithra/pseuds/Arithra
Summary: After his short conversation with Felix in the training ground, Dimitri couldn’t get the sword of Zoltan out of his mind and would really like to sate his curiosity. Felix, however, was not inclined to indulge him. Instead he seemed to take petty satisfaction from keeping Dimitri away from his sword.More than five years and a war later, Dimitri still hadn’t gotten his hands on Felix. Er. Felix’s sword.Really, it wasn’t like he was going to break it.Or: Instead of disappearing from their interactions after their B-Support, the sword of Zoltan brings them closer together. Dimitri x Zoltan x Felix - the OT3.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 21
Kudos: 93





	Two Guys And The Sword of Zoltan: A Love Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [puppysicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppysicle/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by [@puppysicle](https://twitter.com/puppysicle/status/1269985716798320641)'s rendition of the mareep meme.  
> A special thank you to [apastron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowGirl/pseuds/apastron) for the beta!  
> Please enjoy!

Dimitri identified the sword immediately. He saw the pattern of the edge, and he knew what it was: A sword of Zoltan. It was only his second time seeing one. The last time had been in his childhood when a knight had come to court and Glenn, Felix and him had bothered the poor man until he had shown it to them.

But now, now Felix had one. Stumbled upon it in the marketplace by accident apparently. A small part of Dimitri felt envy, but another acknowledged Felix’s keen eye for swords. 

Were it still back in the times of their childhood, Dimitri was sure that Felix would have let him hold the blade at the very least, fear of Dimitri breaking it or not. But that time was long behind them, and Felix balked at letting him so much as touch it. And though he did engage him in conversation, for once, on the topic of swords - something he and Felix alone had shared among their friends - Felix walked off shortly after, clearly in a bad mood. Dimitri did not understand him. 

What remained stuck in Dimitri’s mind was the image of the exquisite blade, sharp and gleaming in the light. A true sword of Zoltan. And he had not been allowed to touch it.

Much to Dimitri’s consternation, it would become a theme.

\--

The next time Dimitri saw the sword of Zoltan was in a battle. And what a magnificent sight it was! 

Dimitri mentally thanked the professor for pairing him with Felix as he followed his childhood friend across the battlefield. Felix was an excellent swordsman and seeing the sword of Zoltan in his hand, used with great skill and precision, was a true pleasure. 

Felix spun and cut, using all the skills his years of training had given him, as well as the new tricks the professor had imparted on him. He took great advantage of his superior skill to direct his blade through the smallest of openings. Once, he even cut through another man’s blade, the crest of Fraldarius lighting up his own sword. It was a performance worthy of such a marvelous blade.

\--

They moved away from the location of the battle to make camp but settled down quickly enough. Most of them found themselves at the campfire while Dedue and Ashe performed their cooking magic. 

Dimitri was seated two spaces away from Felix with Ashe’s empty seat between them. As such, he had an excellent view of the sword of Zoltan as Felix unsheathed it and set to cleaning it properly. Felix had wiped it down after the battle of course, but Dimitri could still spot traces of blood. 

There was no doubt, however, that Felix knew how to take care of a blade. Under Dimitri’s watchful gaze Felix cleaned and oiled the sword of Zoltan with expert skill. Long fingers stroked along the length of the blade, a cloth held between. Up and down. Up and down.

The sword gleamed in the firelight. Dimitri could not look away. 

It became his routine after their battles, so of course, Felix noticed eventually.

\--

Dimitri had settled down at the campfire for a calming evening of sword of Zoltan watching when Felix's gaze suddenly snapped up from the blade to Dimitri.

“What are you staring at?” Felix snarled at him and shifted in his seat, the sword on his lap moved and caught the light drawing attention to it’s magnificent edge. 

Dimitri shrugged awkwardly, but watching Felix’s scowl only get deeper at his silence, he decided that honesty was probably the best choice.

“The sword,” he said, and gestured with his hand to Felix’s lap. Felix gaze went from Dimitri to his magnificent sword and then back to Dimitri. He seemed to think for a moment, and then Felix smirked, his eyes lighting up with something Dimitri did not want to think about. 

(But he did anyway. So: Wicked glee? Satisfaction? Humor? Delight? Pride? Dimitri really did not know. How vexing.)

Maybe he should have expected that things would only go downhill from there. 

\--

Felix brought the sword of Zoltan to the dining hall and sat at such an angle from Dimitri that Dimitri could not see it without awkwardly turning.

He brought it to class. He sat behind Dimitri. 

He started Using. Another. sword. When paired with Dimitri on missions. 

He left the window of his room open so Dimitri could hear him clean the sword of Zoltan and smell the swordpolish. Each time Dimitri was tempted to knock on his door, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. The irritation gnawed at him. 

Then, one day after training when he was putting away his training lance, DImitri spotted Felix talking to Petra from the Black Eagle house. They were standing together at the side of the training field and admiring the sword of Zoltan. Dimitri moved closer hesitantly. Surely with another person around Felix would not simply put the sword away. Surely Dimitri would finally be able to admire the sword for just a moment.

Dimitri moved closer still and he must have made some kind of sound, because Felix looked up and caught his eye. He looked surprised for a second, but then he smirked just slightly.

He did not put the sword away. No. What he did was so much worse. 

He offered Petra to try the sword.

Dimitri broke his lance clean in two.

It continued.

\--

Felix practised with the sword of Zoltan, but the moment Dimitri entered the training ground he sheathed his sword. He didn’t leave. He gave no excuse to why he would need to use a different weapon. 

He beat Dimitri in a spar and looked down at him, proud and satisfied, a taunting light in his eyes and backlit by the sun. Dimitri could not help but think that the image could only have been improved if it was the sword of Zoltan pointed at his throat.

Felix asked the Professor if she had ever encountered other swords of Zoltan during her travels as a mercenary, when he knew Dimitri was still within earshot for the moment but expected elsewhere.

Felix got his hands on a marvelous collection of essays on the sword of Zoltan including theories about its forging process and left them lying around on the table long enough for Dimitri to spot the title before putting them away. 

It was the little things. Dimitri wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it. It had been a long time since matters of everyday life had engaged (and irritated!) him in such a matter. 

If it was accidental, maybe Dimitri would have gotten over it if he had thought that Felix wasn’t doing it on purpose, but there was no question on that front. 

Each time Felix noticed his frustration, a smirk would flash across his face. It was an attractive and eye catching look that made him appear even more striking than usual. Dimitri wanted to wipe that look of his face. 

It taunted him when he was awake as well as when he was sleeping. He dreamed of Felix defeating him in a fight while wielding the sword of Zoltan, _that_ smirk on his lips as he looked down at him. Felix smelled like sword polish and his hair was a mess, and then he started quoting the sword of Zoltan essays, showcasing the different aspects talked about on his own sword of Zoltan all while straddling Dimitri.

It was a dream that left Dimitri frustrated and reeling and wanting very much to get his hands on the Sword of Zoltan. It also left him in a state that was… terribly inappropriate and thankful for the fact that each student had their own room. 

\--

Felix was chosen as the representative of the Blue Lion House to participate in the White Heron Cup. He danced them to victory with flaring skirts and the Sword of Zoltan in his hand. Dimitri watched him glide through the movements with a grace that Dimitri could only dream off, the Sword of Zoltan like an extension of his arm. They spun and slashed through the air, a compelling and enchanting image of grace and lethality. 

Beautiful, Dimitri could not help but think, and tried to ignore that he meant both the sword and the irritating man. 

\--

At the end of the year ball, Felix had the sword of Zoltan belted at his side. He rarely went anywhere without it these days and Dimitri had almost resigned himself to the fact that the clearest glance he would ever get at the sword was to see hanging alongside Felix’s long legs, or beside his ass. 

(It wasn’t completely bad. Just slightly unfulfilling.) 

\--

Dimitri left Fraldarius the morning after they arrived after fleeing the monastery. When he walked through the entrance hall, he found Felix watching him from the top of the stairs, the sword of Zoltan in hand. After noticing his attention, Felix opened his mouth and stepped forward, but at that moment the soldiers outside indicated that they were prepared to leave.

With one last look at Felix, Dimitri turned away and left.

\--

(Felix watched him pacing the cathedral day in and day out. Sometimes he settled down to tend to his weapon, glancing up and Dimitri again and again, but it was of no consequence.)

\--

After five years, too much bloodshed, Rodrigue’s death and a rather difficult conversation about Dimitri’s nature behind them, Dimitri came upon Felix’s sitting in the dining hall in the evening and cleaning his sword. A sword Dimitri knew. 

Instantly, he was riveted by the sight. With no small part of incredulity, he noted that it was the exact same sword that Felix had had years ago. Dimitri had never held on to one weapon for even half the time. But he recognized the miniscule nicks on the hilt without a doubt. 

It was without a doubt Felix’s sword of Zoltan. 

Hesitantly, Dimitri stepped closer. 

At the sound of his footsteps Felix momentarily looked up from his work, but he did not say anything and instead went back to his task without further reaction.

Relieved at the lack of rejection, Dimitri crossed the last of the distance between them. He sat down next to Felix, far enough that he would not hinder the other in his movements. For a long moment there were no sounds but the soft swish of the cleaning cloth against the blade. 

The sword had obviously seen use in the intervening years, but it was still in excellent condition, a sign of the care Felix must have given it. 

“The same sword of Zoltan.” DImitri found himself saying, unsure how much longer the silence between them would remain comfortable. 

Felix grunted.

“You kept it through all these years?”

At that, Felix paused in his work and looked at him, eyebrows raised. “I did. What did you expect me to do? Throw away a sword like this?” He clicked his tongue, displeased by the mere thought of it. 

Dimitri chuckled. “True enough. No sword of Zoltan should ever be thrown away.” he paused as Felix made a sound of agreement, then continued, with just a tinge of hesitation. “But… why did you use it? Especially against mages and heavily armoured…”

He trailed off when he met Felix’s gaze. His old friend was watching him like he was an idiot, which was nothing new, but there was something else in his gaze as well, and that something gave Dimitri pause.

Felix broke eye contact as soon as Dimitri stopped speaking. “swords are meant to be used.” he said calmly, “What good would an excellent blade do if it just hangs on the wall.”

There was more behind that statement, but the particulars escaped DImitri. “The sword of Zoltan is a work of art, Felix. It would look great on any wall.”

Felix laughed genuinely at that. The sound surprised Dimitri, and it seemed to have surprised Felix as well, because he stopped quickly. The humor lingered in his eyes, however, Dimitri enjoyed the way they crinkled slightly at the side. 

“I suppose that’s true as well…” Felix looked down at the blade, before going back to cleaning. They sat in silence for a moment, before Felix broke it, startling Dimitri who had become absorbed in watching his fingers guide the cloth along the blade.

“That wasn’t the only reason.” Felix said, “the sword also served as a reminder…”

Dimitri gazed at him questioningly, but Felix did not elaborate further. Instead his eyes flickered over Dimitri’s face, lingering on the eyepatch for a moment, and seeming to take it all in. Dimitri wondered what he was looking for, but before he could do so, Felix looked away again and went back to his sword.

“Not that you could use a weapon as a reminder…” Felix trailed off, then continued almost teasingly, “Unless you would use the broken pieces, that is.”

Chuckling, Dimitri settled comfortably on the bench, warmed by Felix’s friendly teasing. It was nice to have that facette of their childhood friendship return, even if it had often frustrated him back then.

Felix seemed to consider the conversation over, and Dimitri did not truly feel the need to continue the conversation either, content to watch Felix clean the sword. 

He had never been this close to it before, and the wave pattern on the edge was even more intricate than he had previously though. The metal also had a slight sheen that Dimitri had thought to be a trick of the light when he spotted it from afar. He wondered if whatever had caused the sheen had been discussed in the essays Felix had read on the topic during their time at the officer’s academy. 

Felix flipped the blade around and held it up vertically, twisting it so he could inspect the edge. DImitri looked at them, Felix and the sword, back lit by the slowly setting sun falling in through the open doors. It made both the blade and Felix’s hair gleam, making him appear as if he had come out of one of the intricate paintings of heroes they had looked at as children.

Dimitri wanted to reach out and touch them, let his own finger’s glide along the edge of the blade as Felix’s had, and run his fingers through Felix's hair. 

He wanted to ask to hold the sword of Zoltan, simply to know the feel of the blade that had been on his thoughts all those years ago. But the fragility of their newly reforged understanding held him back. Instead he settled for intently watching Felix work.

The silence between them was comfortable, and the awkwardness that had made Dimitri break it previously was gone. 

Slowly, but surely they were finding their way back to each other. And someday… Dimitri was going to get his hands on that sword. 

\--

During missions and battles Dimitri was often paired with Felix, and he was glad for it. He had asked the professor why once, and she had told him that it was because Felix was one of the few people who was able to keep up with him at all times. The implication of his bad mental state lingered, and Dimitri knew that the bloodlust could catch up with him again if a battle took a turn for the worse. He had inclined his head in agreement.

Truthfully, he didn’t mind. 

During the smaller battles it gave him a chance to admire Felix’s swordsmanship. To see him use the sword of Zoltan with even greater finesse. Dimitri had thought Felix’s skill worthy of the magnificent blade back in the academy, but these days it felt to him like only the masterful craftsmanship of the sword of Zoltan that could possibly match the peerlessness of Felix’s skill. Dimitri was surprised to note that when it came to bare swordsmanship alone, Felix had surpassed even the professor. 

Seeing the blade in action made Dimitri remember Felix’s words about a sword being meant to be used. Each time the sword of Zoltan cut through the air, through enemies and spells alike, guided by Felix’s expert hand, Dimitri could not help but agree with him. 

Felix treated the sword of Zoltan as an extension of himself, and Dimitri thought that they belonged together.

\--

Eventually, the war ended. Eventually, they won. After the final battle in the Imperial Palace, both Felix and his sword were covered in blood from head to toe. Dimitri had heard him scream his name when Edelgard had taken her last stab at killing him.

His name was still a special sound on Felix’s lip, though he preferred to not hear him sound that scared ever again.

After his shoulder had been treated, Dimitri went around to take a look at his friends and reassure himself that they were all alive and mostly unharmed. 

He found Felix last, sitting outside on one of the balconies and watching their armies camped out below. He was cleaning his sword, still covered in blood.

When Dimitri stepped out the door, Felix looked up from his work. Dimitri was pleased to see, Felix had at least taken the time to clean his face somewhat.

“How bad is it?”

It took him a moment to understand what Felix was asking, but when he did he chuckled sheepishly. “Not too bad. Mercedes wasn’t pleased that I pulled the blade out immediately,” the look on Felix's face informed him that neither did he, Dimitri pressed on before he could add to Mercedes’ lecture, “But it will be as good as new soon. It might be tender for the coming week, but nothing bad.”

The frown on Felix’s face lessened a little. Still, Dimitri waited for the chasitement at having given Edelgard the opportunity to strike at him at all. Yet, it did not come and Dimitri relaxed. Carefully, he settled down next to Felix on the floor.

Felix went back to cleaning his blade, and Dimitri watched him work elegant fingers along the length of it. It had become an indulgence of his as off late. 

“So it’s over.” Felix’s voice was subdued and Dimitri nodded, trusting that Felix would be able to make out the movement from the corner of his eye. 

“I wonder what use my sword will have now…” Felix's voice was quiet when he continued, and it did not really sound like a question that was directed at Dimitri himself. But he sounded troubled, and Dimitri found himself compelled to answer.

“I don’t think the fighting will end for a while longer yet. With the Alliance and Empire leaderless, unrest is sure to follow. The unification of three kingdoms will take a while,” and he added the next part not without sadness, “And fighting is sure to be part of it… there is also the unrest that always follows after war… bandits, deserters, children without homes…”

The thought was a sobering one. They hadn’t even celebrated their victory yet, but more troubles awaited them. 

Dimitri shook his head slightly, pushing those concerns aside for later. Felix was watching him with keen eyes, his hands having stilled on the blade. Dimitri gave him a half smile.

“And if that is over… well,” Dimitri chuckled, even before he said the words, pleased by the humor of them. “We have both agreed that the sword of Zoltan is a marvelous work of art… If you do not want to hang it on the wall, let it adorn you.” He smiled, “No less would do.”

Felix did not respond for a long moment and when Dimitri looked in his direction he found him slightly wide eyed.

“Well,” Felix sounded flustered, “Maybe… if you think it’s fitting.“ 

He was avoiding Dimitri’s gaze more intently than usual, but Dimitri smiiled. “I can think of no blade more fitting for you than one of Zoltan’s masterpieces. What else could match your elegance and skill?”

Felix made a strange sound in the back of his throat, his fingers clenching and unclenching around his sword, before he cleared his throat and changed the subject.

Dimitri smiled, at peace, if only for the moment. 

\--

Felix did indeed take to wearing the sword of Zoltan like an adornment alongside his formal robes once they reluctantly settled into court life. At first the sword - despite it’s grace and beauty - had looked a bit out of place alongside his formal robes, as the shealth still bore the signs of wear and war. It had made some people uncomfortable. 

Dimitri had not minded the reminder, but he found himself rather taken by the decorative shealth Felix had had fashioned to replace it after a while. It was a mostly undetailed piece in dark colors with only two adornments: the crest of Fraldarius in silver, and - almost indistinguishable on the dark material and only visible if the light fell just right - the crest of Blaiddyd in dark blue.

To see the sword of Zoltan adorned in such a way made a wave of pleased possessiveness rise up inside of Dimitri and improved his mood every time he saw it in Felix’s hand, at Felix’s side, or resting on Felix's lap.

One point of irritation remained, however, as Dimitri had not yet been allowed to hold the blade. He saw it almost daily, but he still did not know what the material would feel like against his skin. 

\--

They had retired to Dimitri’s personal sitting room for the evening, going over some last minute paperwork. After one particularly grueling proposal, Felix had taken out a bottle of wine. Dimitri had not been able to resist joining him, so maybe by the time Dimitri brought the topic up, he was just a bit more loose tongued than he would usually be. They had finished their work some time ago and had continued sitting together in silence. Dimitri had taken a look at some of the personal letters he had received, while Felix was reading a novel that Ashe had recommended to him.

Dimitri did not know what the book was about, but in a way it had engaged him as well. After a while he had been drawn away from the perusal of his letters and had instead taken to watching Felix. He was fascinated by the way Felix’s eyes flickered across the page, the way his long lashes had thrown even longer shadows across his cheeks, and the way his eyebrows would rise and fall in response to the contents of the book.

At one point Felix had straightened in his seat to stretch. The movement drew Dimitri’s attention away from his face, down the lines of his elegant throat, and his shoulders. Then a dull thud had drawn his attention further down still.

The sword of Zoltan that Felix still carried with him everyday, even in peacetime, was still attached to Felix's sword belt, now, in the privacy of DImitri’s sitting room. Felix’s previous movement had caused it’s shealth to knock against the side of the table, causing the noise that had drawn Dimitri’s attention.

Dimitri stared at it. And suddenly the desire he had felt since Felix had first shown him the sword in the training ground of Garreg Mach came back to him with full force. 

This time, however, he thought that maybe Felix would let him touch it. Maybe even swing it. He just had to present his thoughts correctly, and his longtime dream would be within reach.

Dimitri gathered his courage. “There is something I must confess to you, Felix.”

Felix looked up from his book, and gave Dimitri a nod to show he had his attention. 

Dimitri smiled slightly. “I. I have always been fascinated by it.” Felix frowned in puzzlement. “By, ah.” Dimitri cleared his throat awkwardly, “By, by your - ah. Your sword.”

He gestured towards the side of Felix's hip where the sword of Zoltan remained belted.

Felix’s eyes went wide, and he mouthed the word. 

Dimitri pressed on, wanting to make his point clear. To show Felix that, even if it was maybe a bit foolish, his desire remained the same. 

“I’m sure it is as magnificent as I imagine it to be. I have caught glances of it before of course,” Dimitri smiled sheepishly and Felix's eyes went wider still, “Although the setting might have been inappropriate for my appreciation,” such as during battle, “I cannot say I regret it.”

He cleared his throat, “I want to see it properly. I want to touch it.” Dimitri could almost imagine it: the enchanting gleam of the blade, the flawless edge… Ah, how it had taunted him in his academy days.

“I want to glide my fingers along the length of it… the texture will surely be sublime.. To feel it under my hands...” He smiled at the thought of it. The idea had been on his mind on and off for years now. “I want to worship it like it is meant to be worshiped.” He met Felix’s gaze squarely, because surely Felix of all people would understand. “It has been on my mind for years and haunted my dreams.”

Felix stared at him with wide, wide eyes, a pretty flush on his cheeks. Dimitri was enchanted by the sight, though he did not quite understand what had brought it on. Maybe it has been Dimitri’s true appreciation for his beloved sword? It would make sense. Felix had always cherished it greatly. 

Dimitri smiled

“Felix?” he inquired. 

Felix jolted in his seat, eyes widening further and blushed terribly, going red from the tips of his ears, down below the color of his shirt. Dimitri wondered how far down it went, but that was an inappropriate question. 

Hands fluttering erratically in the air before him, Felix leaned forward, before paradoxically jerking back, away from Dimitri. His hands, however, steadied, one finger pointing at Dimitri accusingly.

“You!” Felix nearly shrieked, “My-My sword!” he seemed to stumble over the word, voice strangled, “You.”

Dimitri raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, taken aback by Felix’s sudden outburst.

“A no, would have sufficed Felix.” he said, a bit sadly.

Felix shook his head, and impossibly, seemed to blush even more.

“It- It.” Felix cleared his throat and avoided Dimitri’s eye, “It wasn’t a no.”

Though he had a bit of trouble understanding Felix’s words, because he was speaking very quietly and uncharacteristically mumbling them, Dimitri found himself beaming in return.

“Wonderful!” He exclaimed.

Felix’s hands clenched convulsively around the handle of the sword of Zoltan. He was looking anywhere but in Dimitri’s direction and shifting in his seat. 

Dimitri felt amusement well up inside of him. Felix had always been possessive of his sword, but he was glad that the trust between them had been built enough that Felix would allow him this.

“You know that I wanted to look at the sword of Zoltan for years.” Dimitri chuckled in fond remembrance.

“My Zoltan?” Felix asked, his voice flat.

Dimitri beamed at him. “Yes. I'm so glad that you allow it… Like I said, it has been on my mind for years.”

Felix stared at him for a long moment. Dimitri looked at him in puzzlement.

“Felix? Is-”

“You know what,” Felix cut him off, sounding furiously angry and absolutely done, “It is a no after all.” And with that he rose to his feet, grabbed his sword, and with a dirty look back at DImitri, left the room. 

Dimitri scrambled to his feet.

“Felix? Wait! I don’t understand? Why-”

The door fell shut behind Felix, leaving Dimitri alone in his room.

He let his hands fall to his side. What had just happened?

\--

In the following days Felix avoided him. 

The day after Dimitri attempted to get his hands on Felix’s sword Sylvain met his gaze across the hall and nearly choked on his laughter. 

It was a bit upsetting. 

After all, Felix and him were friends again. They worked together everyday, shared meals, conversations and spars. Even if Sylvain seemed to think otherwise, Dimitri couldn’t possibly have anticipated that Felix would be this offended by the mere suggestion of Dimitri touching his sword.

Two days later, Dimitri decided to apologize. After years of separation, he had just gotten used to and appreciative of Felix’s presence at his side again, and the return of the avoidance of their teenage years was distressing.

True to form, Felix was in the training ground when Dimitri sought him out. The young duke was going through the forms of one of the standard Faerghus sword forms, the sword of Zoltan in hand. Instead of interrupting him Dimitri found himself stopping in the doorway and watching him work.

Felix was as beautiful and lethal as always. Grace given form and will. (Or, as Alois had joked with Dimitri: His Grace the Duke. A most suitable title. Ha!) He moved through each set with a mixture of deliberation and longstanding practice. The smoothness of his movements giving credit to his diligent training and commitment. 

For once though, there was an uncharacteristic level of frustration in his movements. Especially given how long Felix seemed to have been training already. His shirt was translucent with sweat and clung to his back and arms, making each shift of his muscles visible, and his hair had come undone from the ponytail Dimitri had spotted from a far earlier today. 

While it was not unusual for Felix to work out his frustrations through training, he rarely needed long to do so. When Dimitri had asked him about it once, Felix had grudgingly informed him that going through the forms cleared his mind and restored his focus. It was a tool he used to deal with the frustrations of everyday life.

(Since they had to deal with the court day after day Felix’s training schedule had become even more impressive.)

Dimitri watched as Felix once more moved smoothly through the forms. To Dimitri, it had long ago become a guilty pleasure to watch Felix train. Even before Duscur he had always liked doing so, but after the rebellion and during their time at the officer’s academy, he had done so while trying to remain unnoticed, knowing that Felix would not appreciate his presence.

Except maybe for those occasions when Felix had deliberately teased him with the presence of the sword of Zoltan and keeping it out of Dimitri’s sight. Back then it had been irritating, but today Dimitri looked back at it with rose colored fondness. In retrospect, the memories he had of Felix’s smug smile were terribly charming. Sadly, it seemed the remnants of Felix’s playfulness were another victim to the five years of war. 

Dimitri shook his head to dislodge the morose thoughts. What was done was done. He could only look into the future and try his hardest to be worthy of the position and trust he had been given.

Still, he thought, and his gaze traced along Felix’s arm and the secure grip he had on the sword of Zoltan. Even if Felix had made quite clear that he still did not want Dimitri to touch his sword - even if Dimitri had a feeling that it had been a near thing! - surely now he was allowed to watch even with the current tension between them?

Settling himself more comfortably against the wall, Dimitri prepared to enjoy the joint exhibit of Felix’s grace and skill and the magnificence of his sword of Zoltan. It was a rewarding experience.

After some time, Felix came to a stop, and Dimitri prepared to make his presence known. Before he could do so, however, the looseness of Felix’s shoulders disappeared again, and the swordsman snarled at nothing. 

To Dimitri’s shock, Felix went so far as to wave around his sword of Zoltan in frustration. Giving the piece of art a venomous look, and looking almost ready to throw it against the wall. Thankfully, he didn’t. Dimitri didn’t know how he would have dealt with that. Instead Felix sheathed the sword with a frustrated movement and carded a hand through his hair, still thrumming with tension. 

The training did not seem to have gotten rid of his frustration. Dimitri grimaced slightly, but he had spent too much time waiting to retreat now. If Felix noticed his departure, his ire would only grow further. The best thing he could do was face his friend head on and apologize. 

“Felix.” He called and straightened from his place against the wall. To Dimitri’s distress, Felix’s shoulders tightened further at the sound of his voice. Thankfully, however, the swordsman did not walk away.

“Dimitri.” He greeted instead, but did not turn around.

Dimitri left his spot by the wall and stepped out into the middle of the training ground. “Have you been training long?” Dimitri asked, and internally chided himself for avoiding the issue.

At his question, Felix turned his head to face Dimitri, his eyebrows raised incredulously. “No,” he answered, and although the tone of his voice implied that an ‘you idiot’ should probably be tagged onto that. Dimitri opened his mouth to retort, but Felix continued, “I just walk around in a drenched shirt for fun.”

As he spoke he tugged at the collar of said shirt and grimaced at the feel of the fabric sticking to his skin. 

Dimitri’s brain stalled. He imagined it for a moment; Felix walking around with a wet shirt, dark hair clinging to his face and nape, his collar bones visible through the wet material of this shirt. His sleekly muscled torso and abs put on a tantalizing display. The way the material would cling to it when he moved...

“Dimitri?”

Dimitri shook his head, startled by the indecent journey his brain had taken him on. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and looked at Felix. He had to get back to the reason for his being here. He would inspect this... development at a later date. In private.

“I apologize,“ both for his thoughts, which would likely not be appreciated, and his absentmindedness, “I only wanted to start a conversation.” Dimitri hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words to bring up the issue without causing offense. He was here to apologize after all. 

Dimitri sighted. “You have been avoiding me these last two days, since our conversation about your sword.”

Felix’s eyes were clenched shut, and Dimiitri saw the muscle at the side of his jaw jump and his friend grinded his teeth. Hastily, he continued. 

“I am sorry if I offended you. I know that you cherish your sword of Zoltan greatly,” he laughed awkwardly, “And well, as you know I appreciate the fine craftsmanship as well.”

Dimitri looked at Felix earnestly, but the other was avoiding Dimitri’s eye, staring fixedly at his nose. There was a flush of anger on his cheeks now. 

“It is your sword, however,” Dimitri continued earnestly, “And if you do not want me to touch it… That is your right.” He might have sounded a bit forlorn at the end, but Dimitri could not help himself. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Dimitri finished.

In front of him, Felix grimaced, and still avoided eye contact. Dimitri waited. 

“Urg. No.” Felix pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just… Just forget about it.” A pause then so quietly that Dimitri was certain, it had been intended for him to hear, “I am certainly trying to.”

Dimitri hesitated. Part of him wanted to push, to know what had suddenly made Felix so upset, but another part was just glad that whatever his misstep had been, Felix would not hold it against him. 

“Alright. Thank you, Felix,” he paused, then, could not help himself, “May I ask-”

“No.” Felix’s voice allowed for no arguments. 

Dimitri nodded again, not happy with the non-answer, but knowing that would be the best he would get.

Despite trying to stop himself, Dimitri found his gaze wandering down the lean lines of Felix’s torso again, skirting over the sight of his nipples visible through the wet shirt and down to his sword belt. To the sword of Zoltan.

Even the hilt tempted him. Dimitri bit his lip. The sound of Felix clearing his throat made him look up. His friend was watching him with an unreadable look on his face, traces of his flush still lingering on his face. He did not look angry, however.

Dimitri opened his mouth.

“No,” Felix said again, sounding viciously delighted, though Dimitri could not place why. “You do not get to touch it.” There was that stubborn set to Felix’s face again. Dimitri knew that his arguments would gain him nothing.

He might have pouted a bit, at least that would explain why Felix’s eyes flickered down to his mouth, and his eyebrows furrowed and his flush deepened. 

Dimitri decided to approach the problem from another angle.

“So… If I’m not allowed to touch… Can I watch? I’m sure it would be _very_ enjoyable.” He could not help but draw out the ‘very’ to make clear how much he would appreciate it. 

Sadly, Felix appreciated nothing about this statement if the sound he made, or the return of the angry flush was any indication.

\--

Despite the fact that the issue remained unsolved, and Dimitri’s questions unanswered, things returned back to normal after that. It was, at least in parts, the return to their normal from the academy days, only with added conversations and pleasant interactions. 

To the surprise of many - but not Dimitri’s - Felix excelled in his role as Duke Fraldarius, advisor to the king. He was a completely different figure from Rodrigue, however, and many of the old guard struggled on how to deal with him. His sharp tongue and ability to cut through bluster and posturing to the heart of the matter was irreplaceable in the struggle to reshape and unite the continent. He was hardly the most popular member of Dimitri’s court, but even those who clashed with him came to grudgingly respect him. 

Once Dimitri overheard some courtiers talking about how the only thing sharper than the duke’s sword was his tongue. He couldn't help but feel just a touch offended. As if even Felix’s sharp tongue could compare to his mastery of swordsmanship and the sword of Zoltan!

\--

Felix’s sharp tongue was the only thing that gained attention as Foldan settled into its new trot, but also his looks. Especially a number of noble ladies and young knights seemed to appreciate the sight the duke made. 

Be it in court or on the training ground, Dimitri could not bring himself to disagree. Just as Felix had risen to become more than worthy of wielding the sword of Zoltan, he had long ago risen to a level where it seemed like a suitable adornment for him in any setting. 

Felix, with the sword of Zoltan standing beside DImitri in the throne room, the hilt of the sword visible past his toned stomach. 

Felix, with the sword of Zoltan standing at the council table and putting nobles in their place, an imperious tilt to his head and his hair shimmering with the light falling through the window.

Felix, with the sword of Zoltan striding through hallways and past courtiers who parted for him, as if he had swung the sword in their direction to make way. His cloak flapping behind him from the swift movement and showing of his legs and the boots. 

Felix, with the sword of Zoltan on the training ground working through the forms, and letting Dimitri watch him clean the blade afterwards with long elegant fingers. 

Felix, with the sword of Zoltan on the bed beside him, when Dimitri stormed into his chambers unannounced rattled from a nightmare and desperately wanting to confirm his safety. Felix’s steady presence and determined but awkward voice assuring Dimitri that he was just fine. 

Felix, using the sword of Zoltan to spar with him, beating him and smirking down at him in a satisfied manner - like a scene out of a dream. 

Felix and the sword of Zoltan in an actual dream, looking at him and smiling while he set the sword aside to reach for Dimitri. 

Felix, with the sword of Zoltan at his side where Dimitri wanted to be: With Felix fingers on his skin. Felix’s gaze on him. Felix’s appreciation for the sight of him. 

Maybe Dimitri should not have been as surprised by the last thought as he was.

\--

The initial thought might have surprised him, but it was not a realisation that Dimitri struggled with. Instead it settled warmly in his chest, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Like finding something he had been unknowingly searching for for a long time.

He gazed at Felix who was currently sitting across from him in his office, suffering through the paperwork with him. The sword of Zoltan was resting against his chair. 

Felix noticed his look and raised his brows in question. “What?”

Dimitri smiled at him, brighter than was probably appropriate in a professional setting without any context, “I just thought about how glad I am to have you with me.”

Felix started at him, a blush on his cheek. Dimitri’s smile grew impossibly more fond. Felix had never been good at taking compliments directed at anything but his hard won skills. 

“Urg… Why are you saying stuff like that out of nowhere?” Felix turned away, but it did not hide his blush as even his ears had turned bright red. It also gave Dimitri a nice view on his elegant neck.

Dimitri chuckled. “It just felt right to say it.”

Felix groaned, groused and told him to get back to work, but the small pleased smile on his lips did not escape Dimitri’s notice.

\--

Dimitri started with small gestures, afraid to spook Felix and afraid to damage their friendship, should Felix not return his regard. 

He made sure to order meals that he knew Felix particularly enjoyed when they ate together. 

He offered Felix choice pieces from his own plate, something they used to do as children, and something Dimitri had tried during the academy and been rebuffed for. He was not rebuffed now.

He presented Felix with small, but mostly useful gifts: A hunting knife. A hair ribbon when Felix’s own had been torn or started to frazzle. A book that he had read and thought Felix would enjoy. A fancy set of maps of the new, united kingdom, focusing on terrain and ideal for planning troop movements. The wine Dimitri had gotten and that he knew Felix had enjoyed much more than Dimitri himself could. 

He invited Felix to dance during balls and was pleased that his dearest and oldest friend actually agreed. It was clear who between them was the better dancer, but Dimitri enjoyed himself, and he was fairly certain Felix did as well. 

He made sure to catch Felix’s eye and smile at him when the opportunity presented itself. He paid compliments that were true, but would usually go unvoiced. His appreciation for Felix’s choice of clothes, the boots (those were interesting), his new dagger, or the good work he did during council meetings, sometimes even jokes about the people Felix had put into place. Dimitri knew Felix enjoyed that. 

He told Felix that he liked his new hairstyle when Felix came to work with his hair mostly undone - and though he did not quite know why Felix looked smug at that and told him that he knew that - and smiled at him some more.

Dimitri was quick to notice that Felix seemed to like his smiles. The genuine ones, the unprinclely ones with too much teeth and dimples, the smiles that were too lopsided to be polite. Knowing that Felix liked something about him that was purley Dimitri and nothing else made him inappropriately happy. 

The only stumbling block seemed to be the sword of Zoltan and maybe swords in general. Everytime Dimitri would direct his compliments to Felix’s choice of weaponry - the sword of Zoltan or otherwise - Felix would develop a twitch at his jaw and brow. It was befuddling to Dimitri. What could have turned one of their earliest common interests into something of a disruptive nature for their relationship? In the end, he was forced to set it aside as he could not come up with an answer.

Dimitri had never found the sword of Zoltan vexing in _this_ way before. 

\--

Eventually, Dimitri made his actual move in a way that could not be interpreted as anything but romantic. At this point he was fairly certain that Felix at least returned his affections to some degree, and Dimitri knew he would not get an answer without first asking the question. Not from Felix.

Like so often, they were in the training ground sparring. They traded victories and defeats, and Dimitri found pleasure settled deep into his chest when he caught sight of Felix smiling - actually smiling widely - during their latest bout. His distraction, however, caused him to lose and find himself against the pillar, his lance clattering to the side and the sword of Zoltan at his neck.

Felix's smile turned into a smirk, the pleased taunting one that Dimitri very much enjoyed. Dimitri took in the sight of him: breathing slightly hard from exertion, his hair undone from the ponytail, a tempting sheen of sweat on his skin - and that one droplet running down… - and he came to a decision. 

“You win.” Dimitri said, pressing the blade away from his neck with his hand. Felix did not offer any resistance, he let the sword fall to his side before lifting it again so he could inspect the edge to make sure there was no damage. 

Dimitri did not move to pick up his lance as Felix probably expected, instead he stepped closer to Felix, making the distance between them disappear. Startled, Felix’s gaze flickered up to Dimitri’s own. 

“What-?” Dimitri did not let him finish, could not let himself stop for fear of his courage deserting him.

Another step, they were almost chest to chest with only the sword of Zoltan and a hands width of distance between them. Dimitri reached for Felix, slowly carefully, as if reaching for a spooked animal. Felix's eyes flickered from Dimitri’s hands to his eye, to his neck, and chest and lips and- Felix squeezed his eyes shut.

Dimitri’s fingers trailed along the line of Felix’s jaw, caressed his cheekbones and tugged a strand of Felix’s hair behind his ear. He carefully cradled Felix's face with both hands and gathered himself. Regardless, when he breathed out, the breath came out shuddering. 

“Felix.” He murmured, tilting his head down so they were closer together still. “I wish to kiss you.”

Felix’s eyes snapped open again and went wide. His gaze searched Dimitri’s own. Disbelief flashed across his face, but it was gone in a blink. 

He must have seen something on Dimitri’s face that made him flush from the tip of his ears down his neck. Felix licked his lips, and Dimitri could not help but track the movement with his eyes. Then Felix’s eyes flickering down to Dimitri’s own lips. Very deliberately, Dimitri smiled, before licking his own lips slowly. 

Felix shuddered, then jerked his eyes up to Dimitri’s own again. They stared at each other for a long moment, before Dimitri slowly leaned down to cross the distance.

He was so close he could feel Felix’s breath fan against his skin when Felix slapped the flat sword of Zoltan against his chest. 

Dimitri stopped and held very, very still. Afraid to even move. 

But Felix’s gaze went down to his lips again and then he tilted his head upwards with red cheeks. Dimitri smiled. 

Felix had not tried to move his face out of Dimitri’s grasp, nor even put any pressure behind his shove. If anything it felt more like he was resting his hands against Dimitri’s chest, now.

“May I?” Dimitri asked just to be sure, letting his eyes flicker down to Felix's own. Felix flush deepened, he could see it and even feel the skin warm under his fingers. 

Felix took a shuddering breath, then he nodded small and jerkily, but at the same time he leaned in, closer to Dimitri and rising to the balls of his feet.

Dimitri crossed the distance in an instant and pressed their lips together. 

It was at the same time everything he had imagined, and yet nothing like it. 

Felix’s lips were slightly moist from where he had licked them, but they were just a bit chapped pressed against his own. This close, however, their noses pressed awkwardly together. 

Dimitri tilted his head to the left, but Felix did the same. It felt so good to have Felix this close, but the nose issue remained awkward, even as Felix pressed closer to him. Dimitri could feel his shiver against him.

Dimitri tilted his head to the left, again, Felix followed, licking Dimitri's bottom lip, it felt strange, but good at the same time. Warm and far softer than he had thought. He yearned to return the gesture, but his nose was getting awkwardly smushed to the side, and it made breathing all but impossible.

Dimitri was torn between trying to pull back and try again and not breaking this new connection with Felix, when Felix bit his lip. Dimitri jerked in surprise, and would have pulled away, had Felix’s hand not reached for him and held him form. Suddenly, their noses slotted together much better, making the kiss all the more pleasant. Suddenly, everything fit.

Felix’s hand on his shoulder clutched at the material of Dimitri’s shirt, he felt it crinkle against his skin. When Felix hummed in pleasure, Dimitri could hear and feel it at the same time. A shiver ran down his spine. 

Felix's tongue flickered across the place where he had bit him, soothing the sting. Such sweetness. Dimitri let one of his hands wander from Felix’s face into his hair. It felt silky and smooth, pleasant. Felix opened his mouth slightly; an invitation and Dimitri could not help but groan and take it. 

Now, it seemed like a wholly different kind of kiss and they explored each other curiously, yet with a shyness that was terribly sweet. When Felix pressed closer still, all warm muscle hidden strength, the feeling of it, of having Felix in his arms like this, of being so very close together, that he could feel Felix’s racing heartbeat alongside his own, made Dimitri almost come undone. He untangled his hand from Felix's hair, let the other caress down from cheek to hip and tried to tug Felix closer, closer, closer.

A sudden sharp pain at his chest made Dimitri jerk back. Felix made a noise of maybe surprise - maybe even displeasure - at the movement, at the sudden absence of DImitri’s lips against his own. 

At Dimitri’s urging, Felix allowed himself to be pushed back slightly, yet one of Felix’s hands continued to hold onto Dimitri’s shoulder, and the other held the cause of the sudden interruption. 

Felix hadn’t noticed it yet. “What are you doing?” he gasped, pulling back more, more out of breath than several sets of training left him. Dimitri felt a warm spark of satisfaction, but forced himself to focus.

He nudged at the sword of Zoltan that was still trapped between them, it’s edge having left a cut in Dimitri’s shirt. Felix looked down and took in the sight of Dimitri’s hand moving to put the sword aside. 

Felix’s face was pink, his lips swollen from their kisses, but his sudden glare had lost none of its strength. He swatted Dimitri’s hands away from the sword of Zoltan, and instead let the sword slowly glide to the floor. It came to a stop with a clatter.

When he spoke again, Felix breathed the words against Dimitri’s lips and Dimitri shivered, before he registered the words.

“You do not get to touch the sword.”

And then he kissed him again.

\--

After that, their relationship changed, and Dimitri relished in it: Soft and intimate touches and kisses, some sweet, some far more urgent, setting his blood aflame. For reasons Dimitri couldn’t not fathom, however, the sword of Zoltan remained a source of vexation for him.

Sometimes Dimitri was sure it was unintentional, and other times he knew there was a reason, but he just didn’t know why.

-

The unintentional incidents generally went something like this:

They retired to Dimitri’s sitting room in the evening. 

Dimitri liked having Felix in his space and making himself comfortable. Everytime it happened he felt a comfortable warmth settle in his stomach, alongside the giddiness at having Felix back in his life again that still had not faded. Maybe it never would. 

Felix had already moved to the sitting area while Dimitri went to fetch himself a book from the bookshelf. The sight of the book alone made him smile. Just yesterday Felix had left it on Dimitri’s desk with the grumbled words that he would probably enjoy it. 

Dimitri would and not just because Felix had given it to him, but also because it was _that_ book. The collection of essays on the forging methods that the smith Zoltan employed. Having it in his hand - especially because Felix had given it to him - was very satisfying.

Turning around to the sitting area, Dimitri’s good mood improved even further as he saw that Felix had taken a seat in one of the double seats. For one glorious moment Dimitri imagined seating himself next to Felix, putting his arm around his shoulder and having Felix lean into his side while they read together.

In his imagination, Felix rested his head against Dimitri’s shoulder, so Dimitri could rest his head on Felix's own in turn. He would be able to make out the smell of Felix’s soap and feel his silky hair against his skin.

His imagination died a quick death. 

In front of Dimitri’s despairing gaze Felix unbuckled his sword of Zoltan (and the other sword too) and placed them on the seat next to him. The seat that Dimitri had wanted to take. The sword tilted sideways after a moment and came to rest against Felix's side. 

Dimitri glared at it, and the glossy shealth of the sword merrily twinkled back at him in the light of the chandelier. The crest of Blaiddyd engraved upon it almost mocking him. 

“Felix.” Dimitri said, and he could not quite keep his consternation out of his voice, Felix looked up, clearly surprised and not understanding what Dimitri was upset about.

“Mhm?”

Dimitri raised his right arm to gesture at the seat next to Felix, but he made the mistake of using the hand in which he was holding the book. Felix’s eyes zeroed in on it immediately, lighting up as he spotted it.

“Oh!” There was genuine pleasure in Felix’s voice, ”Are you going to read the book? The second essay was one of my favourites. Tell me what you think of it?”

And he flashed Dimitri that small, almost smile that Dimitri could not help but return. Then Felix went back to his book. Dimitri looked in consternation at Felix and the sword of Zoltan on the seat next to him, before morosely wandering over to the other armchair. 

A glance back at Felix showed him looking so pleased and content that Dimitri could do nothing but nod. “Of course, Felix.”

\--

And then, there were the other types of situations:

One of the more memorable examples was the time Dimitri had planned on pleasuring Felix with his mouth the first time. They had been kissing and touching each other, and Felix had seemed nervous, but pleased when Dimitri made his way downwards. Dimitri had given him a heated look - or at least he hoped so - and set about undoing the laces of Felix’s pants. His fingers had been shaking with excitement at the feel of Felix’s manhood straining against the material. 

Then he had sprung free. The sight made Dimitri lick his lips, above him Felix’s groaned and Dimitri felt his hands tangle in his hair, tugging him forward gently. 

Dimitri chuckled as Felix’s excitement, despite sharing it completely. He grasped Felix’s hips to hold him down, having listened enough to Sylvain’s talk to know that at least this first time, less might be more.

Felix’s hands in his hair tugged in impatience. Dimitri found himself smiling as he leaned forward, setting his lips almost chastly against Felix’s heated flesh. 

Felix let out a shivering groan.

Dimitri chuckled. And surprised himself as how deep a sound it was, almost a rumble. A rumble that Felix’s seemed to like. 

“Come on, Dimitri.” Felix was almost whining. Dimitri shivered, his own body thrumming with arousal. 

“Peace, Felix,” he mumbled, ghosting his lips along Felix’s length, “I know how to handle a sword, even if you don’t quite seem to think so.”

All of a sudden, the fingers in his hair were no longer tugging him closer, but instead holding him frozen in place. Surprised, and a little worried he looked up at Felix. It was a bit awkward with Felix’s erection against his mouth, but Dimitri managed.

The flush had not quite faded from his dearest’s face again, but otherwise his expression was stony. 

Dimitri had stopped pushing forward the moment Felix's hands had tried to get him to stop, but now he deliberately pulled back.

“Felix?” he asked, not without worry.

Felix let out a shivering breath. “Yes?”

Dimitri hovered awkwardly. “Is everything alright?” then, another spike of worry, he glanced down at Felix’s erection, still flushed - and still in Dimitri’s hand. He let it go immediately. “Did I do something wrong?”

Felix’s squeezed his eyes shut. One of his hands untangling from Dimitri’s hair so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. The other started to pat Dimitri’s head comfortingly.

Dimitri allowed himself to relax, but stayed where he was, not daring to reach out again before Felix gave him the go ahead.

Felix was sprawled out on his bed, his long hair spilling on the sheets around him. His shirt was undone, leaving his chest bare, leaving the small marks Dimitri had left earlier on display. He was a sight that Dimitri wanted to burn into his memory forever, expect, for his expression. 

Even with the hand Felix had before his face, Dimitri could make out the grimace.

“Felix?”

Felix let his arm flop onto the bed next to him. “How about we just kiss instead.” He sounded strained, and not like it was something he truly wanted. 

Hesitantly, and a bit reluctantly, Dimitri nodded and crawled up on the bed to lie down next to Felix. He relaxed when Felix curled into him, tangling his hand in his hair again and tucking him closer for a kiss. 

It was soft and sweet, with just a hint of the previous heat, and although Dimitri’s own body still thrummed with arousal, it was not a bad way to spend the evening.

They rested against each other, comfortable and warm, and most importantly together. It was not quite what they had had planned, but if it was what Felix wanted Dimitri had no problem with it at all. 

Even as they lay together, cuddling - something that Dimitri enjoyed very much - he could not help but recall what had happened and when Felix had interrupted him. He got stuck on it, needing to find the reason for the sudden stop, so he could avoid it in the future. 

“Was it the joke?” he eventually blurted out. Felix jerked next to him, having slipped away into a doze in the meantime. “Was it that bad?”

Felix groaned into his shoulder, and Dimitri was torn between tugging him closer - to enjoy Felix pliant and warm next to him - or pulling away slightly so he could see his face.

Felix grumbled something inaudible into his skin, before he was the one pulling away to look at Dimitri with an exasperated and slightly incredulous look on his face. “What in Sothis’ name prompted you to make such a joke?”

Dimitri shrugged, feeling a bit sheepish.

“Well... Alois had said that laughter is important in the bedroom.” he fidgeted slightly, only stilling when Felix's arm squeezed him slightly, “I thought… sword jokes would be something you would like. After all we both know how much you love your sword of Zoltan.” Dimitri managed to hold back from adding more. 

Felix’s eyes were squeezed shut and he seemed to be mentally wrestling withs something.

“Why did you talk with Alois of all people about that?”

Dimitri pursed his lips. “I do not have any experience with relationships, and I preferred not to ask Gustave.” At the name of the loyal knight Felix made a face like he was smelling something unpleasant, Dimitri chose to leave the defense of Annette’s father aside for now, to elaborate further, “And I did not think asking Sylvain would be…”

“Nevermind.” Felix mumbled, “You’re right. “ He leaned into Dimitri’s side again, entangling their fingers and pressing his nose against Dimitri’s neck. “We can’t both go to Sylvain… that’s just asking for trouble.”

Dimitri nodded at that. His mind promptly filled with scenarios and misadventures that Slyvain could lead them into.

“So…” he asked again, “The problem was the joke? About swords?”

Felxi stayed silent.

“Please, Felix,” Dimitri implored, “If it makes you uncomfortable…”

Head resting against his shoulder, Felix looked resigned.

\--

Then again, that time the problem might have been Dimitri’s joke and not the sword of Zoltan itself. After that, Dimitri kept the sword jokes to himself. He had a feeling Felix knew he was still thinking about them once in a while, but since he did not bring them up, everything was fine. 

More than fine really. Except…. For the sword of Zoltan and how it continued to get in his way.

\--

They stumbled into the bedroom, throwing the door shut behind them. Felix’s lips were hot against his own, his tongue pressing against Dimitri’s own, plundering hsi mouth. DImitri groaned and pulled him closer, squeezed Felix’s ass as they grinded against each other. 

Felix’s finger fumbled with the buttons of Dimitri’s shirt. Dimitri bit his lip.

Felix ripped the shirt open, the buttons clattering to the ground. Dimitri chuckled but got cut off when Felix’s left hand went into his hair, tugging slightly. His scalp tingled pleasantly and he removed his hand from Felix’s hip and reached around, grasping the pert behind and lifting him up. Pressing him closer.

Felix groaned against his mouth and his legs wrapped around Dimitri’s hips. Dimitri removed one hand from Felix’s ass and moved to reach behind them to free Felix from his pants.

Their closeness worked against him here, but the thought of separating was more unpleasant than some minor struggle.

“Come on, come on, come on.” Felix panted against his lips, jerking his hips forward. The friction his movement caused made Dimitri moan in pleasure. 

He hitched Felix higher with a careless movement, enjoying the way his partner moaned against his mouth. Felix always enjoyed shows of his strength in the bedroom, and Dimitri was not opposed to indulging him at all. Felix pressed their lips together again, the kiss filthy and a fitting prelude of what was to follow.

Dimitri growled in satisfaction at finally getting his fingers to the laces. He tugged at them. There was no give. The belt. Felix was still wearing his belt. Cursing under his breath and against Felix lips, Dimitri fumbled around, making Felix shudder against him, his wicked mouth going slightly slack as Dimitri’s knuckles slid along his clothed length.

The hilt of Felix’s sword bumped uncomfortable against Dimitri’s elbow. It was getting in his way. Hitching Felix a little higher and securing his grip Dimitri crossed the remaining distance to the bed with quick strides, before dropping Felix onto the bed.

Letting out a huff as he landed on the mattress, Felix tilted his head and arched his neck. The sight of it, soft and bare and glistering slightly with sweat made Dimitri itch to mark him up. 

Felix stared up at him, flushed and panting, eyes gone dark with pleasure. Dimitri licked his lips. Felix chuckled and spread his legs, an invitation that Dimitri could not refuse. He knelt between the spread legs and leaned over Felix to devour his lips. Felix arched up against him, pressing their groins together. They rutted against each other, chasing their pleasure.

Then Felix’s belt buckle pressed uncomfortably against Dimitri’s stomach and he remembered what had caused him to move to the bed. 

At least in this position, the issue could be easily remedied. Dimitri undid the belt, then he reached for the sword. Felix slapped his hand away.

“Stop.”

Incredulous Dimitri looked up at him. Felix was flushed and out of breath, but he met Dimitri’s gaze as evenly as he could. Without looking away from Dimitri’s eye, he reached towards his sword and with great care set it aside. Dimitri blinked, breaking eye contact and staring at the sword.

The sword of Zoltan taunted him from it’s space on the pillow beside Felix.

Felix smirked and grinded up against him, squeezing his legs around Dimitri’s hips.

“Now you can continue.” He said imperiously.

Dimitri stared at him, stared at the sword. Dumbfounded he realized that even in this situation Felix had-

Felix's legs squeezed his hips tighter, and he twisted. Suddenly it was no longer Felix with his back on the mattress. 

“Can we continue?” Felix asked him. Dimitri could not help but turn his head to the side. The sword of Zoltan lay next to him. Shiny and sleek and skill mockingly reflecting the light from the candles. For the first time since he saw the sword, Dimitri actually considered breaking it. 

“Hey,” Felix said, grinding down at his lap and smirking when Dimitri snapped his eye back to him. “Eyes on me.” Felix’s eyes crinkled slightly, “That’s not the sword you should be thinking about.”

Before Dimitri could make sense of the word, before he could realize that _Felix_ had just made a sword joke - and a good one too! - Felix leaned down and kissed him. 

And what a kiss it was. 

All thoughts of the sword of Zoltan - unwelcome bedfellow that it was - flew from Dimitri’s mind and he grasped at Felix’s thighs. Eager to deal with more pressing matters, Dimitri set to facing his next, usually delightful, but currently very much in the way, opponents.

Felix’s boots. 

Maybe he should just leave them on?

\--

Dimitri had considered that maybe it had been the principle of the thing. One of Felix’s eccentricities that did not allow him to ignore Dimitri touching his sword (ha!) in even the most engaging moments. But other times… he was very sure that Felix employed the sword with deliberation.

\--

Dimitri had been waiting for the moment the door to his private quarters fell shut behind them. Felix had been gone for more than a month and, when he was finally back, the ceremony required for the occasion had kept them apart for most of the evening.

Only now, could Dimitri wrap his arms around him and hold him close.

Only now, could Dimitri kiss him sweetly.

Only now could he reach down and lift Felix up and have those long toned legs wrap-

“No.” Felix snapped, putting his fingers over Dimitri’s mouth. “I have been on that cursed horse since this morning. My own threw a shoe and then I had to deal with that blasted beast that that fool of a Lord lent me. Never before have I had to sit on such a travesty of a horse. Even a farm horse has a smoother gait then that! And the ride was long. And then, when I thought it was finally over, I had to deal with all the pomp,“ Felix grimaced, “Standing for that foolish ceremony and listening to blow heads blather on. I have enough. My legs are stiff and the thought of sitting or pissing is uncomfortable. I ache.” He bit out the last words with vitriol. “So no, Dimitri. I am not in the mood.”

Dimitri hummed, and pressed a gentle kiss against Felix’s fingers. He let his own hands wander to Felix’s side and rub them comfortingly. Felix leaned into the touch. 

“I could kiss it better?” Dimitri offered him with a smile, letting his fingers trail down just a bit further. 

Felix gave him a dry look. “Of course. That’s all you plan on doing.” He did not seem to believe Dimitri’s words.

Dimitri clicked his tongue at the disbelief and his smile got wider. He leaned in for one such kiss. Felix tilted his head up to meet him halfway, humming pleasantly.

It was good to have Felix so close again after his absence. Prickly and grumpy, yet sweet and delightful. Felix. 

Dimitri wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. 

Eventually, they broke the kiss and Felix gave him a long searching look. He clicked his tongue at Dimitri’s innocent smile, but did not move out of his embrace. 

The knowledge that Felix had missed him too, warmed Dimitri to the core and would have kept him warm even in the fiercest of Faerghus winters.

However, Felix settling the sword on the bed between them like a barrier, with strict instructions not to touch, after Dimitri’s hands had wandered a bit too far south, was just as vexing as it always was. And from the way Felix’s shoulders were shaking his dearest knew it too.

Grumbling, Dimitri awkwardly leaned over the sword to press a kiss against Felix’s cheek. “I love you, “ he told him, “but the sword really needs to go.”

At that Felix laughed out loud and turn so they were face to face, with only that stupid sword of Zoltan between thm.

“I thought you liked my sword?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. 

Huffing, Dimitri pointed at the sword of Zoltan. “Not this one.”

\--

Eventually, the matter was solved. Though, not in a way that Dimitri would have wanted it to. After all, - minute impulses notwithstanding - Dimitri had wanted the sword gone, not destroyed. 

-

It was the two year anniversary of the end of the war, and a great celebration was being held in castle Fhidiad. Every noble of note, a lot of those who at least thought they were, were in attendance. Swanning around in the ballroom and boasting about their achievements and toasting to the peace. 

It was tiring, but the sight of so many people together, not fighting, and instead celebrating was soothing at the same time. At some point Dimitri had managed to extricate himself from a gaggle of Lords who had been engaging him in conversation and angling at hearing about how they could integrate himself further in his inner circle, and made his way towards the balcony to get some fresh air.

The doors to the balcony were wide open to allow for some fresh air to come in, and Dimitri could feel the breeze even before he stepped outside.

A crash from another balcony caused the chatter in the ballroom to stop, and a roar caused panic to rise.

Dimitri’s hand went to his back instinctively before he remembered that he had not brought his lance. 

A group of demonic beasts burst into the ballroom through the balcony doors. And Dimitri could make out the remnants of transportation magic swirling behind them. 

People began to panic rushing away from the beast without regard towards the people around him. Some of the veterans of the war and the guards tried to push their way to the front of the people, but mass of bodies pushing streaming towards the exit of the ballroom, made it impossible for them to go through.

Dimitri’s eyes flickered around the scene taking in the chaos. Those few guards who had been on the right sight of the hall, had already rushed to engage. He spotted Dedue and Ingrid working together to bar a flying beast prom pushing the fleeing people and Gilbert trying to restore some sense of order among the guests. They were too few people engaging the beast, and soon they would be overrun. 

Then, heart in his throat, Dimitri spotted one of the beasts focus its attention towards a young boy who had fallen in the scramble and was slowly struggling to his feet. The child had not noticed the beast yet, but from the shrill scream somewhere in the mass of bodies pushing towards the exit one of the child’s parents likely had. 

Without needing to think, Dimitri grabbed the nearest object to him, a small table with refreshments on top, and hurled it towards the beast. It hit it with enough force to splinter the table, to push it away from the child and daze it long enough for the boy to run away. The beast did not pursue him, and instead turned and roared into Dimitri's direction. 

Somewhere in the hall, someone screamed his name, he did not have the time to check who it was. All he had was one moment to curse the fact that he had not taken more grappling lessons, before the beast was upon him. 

Dimitri managed to push the beast's maw away from his face and shoulder, but it was more lithe that he had expected and he quickly had to dodge another lunge. This was not the way Dimitri preferred to fight his battles, and after he had managed to deal with another attack, Dimitri was also forced to realize why the beast had only been stunned by his throw momentarily: it was all but immune to blunt force. 

What a terrible matchup. 

The beast roared at him, it’s eyes wild and bloodthirsty and Dimitri bared his teeth in return. 

The next time the beat lunged DImitri did not try to dodge, but instead closed his hands around the beast's maw and pushed it down into the ground. It let out a whine of pain as it slammed into the floor, but Dimitri could not follow up, as he was forced to let go to dodge the armoured tail that swung at him.

He cursed and lurched backwards, barely managing to get out of the way.

“Dimitri!” Someone shouted, and he did not need to turn to know how it was. Felix, probably trying to make his way over to him. 

He scrambled out of the way of another attack and searched his surroundings for a weapon. With some dark humor he thought that maybe Ingrid was right and they should have had a great dinner instead of a ball, at least there would have been plenty of cutlery around.

“Catch!” Felix shouted, and this time he turned, catching the glint of something hurling towards him from the corner of his eye. Instinctively, he reached out to catch it while rolling out of the way of another swipe. When he was on his feet again, he realized that Felix had thrown him a weapon, and not just any weapon, but his sword of Zoltan, shealth and all.

If not for his current situation, he would have likely had a lot of feelings about this. Instead, Dimitri simply drew the blade and threw the shealth aside. 

The tide of his battle with the demonic beast changed after that. For while it might have been able to resist his blows, it could not stand against the edge of a sword, nevermind the edge of this sword. 

Dimitri was not the most skilled swordsman among his friends and acquaintances, but he certainly had more than basic training and experience. The beast did not stand a chance. 

And oh! Never before had Dimitri used a finer sword. Never before had an edge been so keen, or a weight so carefully balanced. After years of vexation focused around this very sword of Zoltan, Dimitri remembered why he had admired it so.

Why he had dreamed of touching it and swinging it. What a marvelous feeling it was.

The demonic beast was defeated easily. And Dimitri himself, like one of the warrior kings of old, swung the last blow with all his might, striking it down with the sword of Zoltan in hand.

He did not have time to relish in the sight however, as a weight slammed into him, unbalancing him enough to send him to the ground. His momentary alarm, however, was short lived, as he recognized the familiar soap and weight, and most tellingly the voice calling his name. 

“Dimitri!” Felix had thrown himself at him, his hands scrambling all over him and desperately checking him for injuries. Dimitri wrapped his free arms around him, and soothingly rubbed his hip.

“I’m fine.” he glanced around the room. The furniture was destroyed, but he thankfully could not see any dead bodies. There were, however, some people around watching him and Felix with wide eyes. Dimitri felt a flare of hesitation at the public setting. So far him and Felix had kept their relationship under wraps outside of the circle of their friends, both because of the politics and because - at least on Dimitris part - he enjoyed having the relationship as something that was Dimitri’s, and not just the king’s. 

But now, with Felix so close to him and with the eyes of the court on him, Dimitri felt a different kind of pleasure. _Yes_ , part of him wanted to say, h _e cares for me that much. He loves me, and I love him._

Maybe it was foolish, but DImitri leaned into Felix’s, putting their foreheads together. Felix’s scrambling movement’s stilled and Dimitri saw the tension leave his frame. Felix’s arms wrapped around his shoulder, his fingers tangling with the short hairs at Dimitri’s nape. They smiled at each other, soft and intimate, but then Dimitri noticed something. The weight in his hand wasn’t right. He blanched and chanced a glance down at his weapon.

Dimitri swallowed, “Felix,” he said, very carefully, “I am so, so sorry, but I… I broke the sword.”

Arms still wrapped around Dimitri and having all but climbed on his lab, Felix stared back at him, blinking at him in puzzlement.

“What?” he asked.

Dimitri took a deep breath and raised his arm and with it the damning proof. Felix had been right all those years ago to not let him touch the sword of Zoltan. Felix's gaze flickered to it, then back to Dimitri again.

“Who cares about the sword?” Felix asked him, sounding so incredulous that it took Dimitri a moment to realize he was not being scolded for his carelessness. “You are alright.”

And he looked at Dimitri with such earnest eyes, and such a relieved smile on his face that Dimitri could not help but lean in for a kiss, heedless of the fact that they were in public. Felix wrapped his arms around him and kissed him back.

\--

After everything had been seen to at least as much as they could in the evening, and they had gone to bed, Dimitri found himself lying sleepless in bed. He carefully extracted himself from Felix’s loving grip and made his way over to the vanity where he had placed the broken pieces of the sword of Zoltan. He picked up the hilt and examined the broken edge.

Felix had not paid any attention to the broken sword, even when they had retired to their chambers, instead he had spent the evening making _very_ sure that he had not overlooked any wounds on Dimitri. 

It had filled him with a childish satisfaction that was more than slightly ridiculous that he was Felix’s priority. Dimitri had never really thought otherwise, but the proof of it, soothed a very petty part of him that he usually liked to pretend didn’t exist.

Sadly, however, his childish triumph over was marred but one simple thing: He had remembered how much he had admired the sword of Zoltan. How much of a masterpiece of craftsmanship it was. 

(And how much he had wanted to prove to Felix that he could handle the sword without breaking it. Sooner or later Felix would remember, and he would never let Dimitri forget it again. It would be the second rendition of his highness breaking swords, only this time starring his majesty the king and a sword far more valuable than a mere training sword.)

\--

It was three years after the war, a year to the day on which Dimitri had broken the sword of Zoltan while preserving his life that Dimitri went down on one knee in front of his dearest Felix.

It was in the early afternoon and Dimitri had asked Felix to come spar with him. A ploy to get him to Dimitri’s chosen location of course, not that a ploy was ever required to get Felix to come to the training yard.

Dimitri, with the help of a long suffering Dedue and a cheerful Annette, had arranged everything beforehand. Alois had given him some tips on what to say, but given how much - or rather how little- Felix usually appreciated Alois choice of words, DImitri had decided not to follow through with the man’s excellent examples. 

The training yard was empty just as Dimitri had arranged for it to be. Felix was a private person and Dimitri did not want him to be embarrassed or uncomfortable, and while Felix was surprised when they arrived, he shrugged it off easily enough. 

Felix began undoing his overrobe. “What are you going to use?” Felix asked him. “The sword or the lance?”

“The lance.” Dimitri told him, and smiled at Felix’s pleased sound. He knew that Felix enjoyed facing him with his best weapon, though if Dimitri had it his way, there would be no sparing in the form of fighting this afternoon. Probably. With Felix you could never be sure.

Dimitri made his way over to the weapon rack where the blunted training weapon’s were arrayed. 

“Bring my usual sword?” 

Ah. What a wonderful prompt. Dimitri could not hold back his smile of pleasure as he reached for the sword he had placed there in advance. He did not bother to pick up his own lance before he made his way back to Felix. 

When felix turned around to face him, opening his mouth to probably chide him for not bringing the lance, he cut him off his one smooth and carefully planned movement. 

Dimitri went down on one knee, right there in the training ground.

He held out his hands in front of him and presented Felix with his gifts. One was a sword of Zoltan, specifically commissioned for felix and the other-

Felix snatched the sword from his hands with a pleased sound. 

“Dimitri, Is this?” his eyes were wide and almost sparkling as he examined the sword. “A Zoltan, really?”

Dimitri opened his mouth, but then Felix froze right where he stood. His gaze was no longer fixed on the sword itself, but instead of the small thing that Dimitri had tied to the handle with a string.

A ring.

Felix started at it. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open. He did not look away from it. He did not reach for it either. 

Dimitri swallowed.

“Regardless of your choice, the sword is yours, of course,” Dimitri had broken the old one after all, he cleared his throat, “Felix we might not have talked about this before, but I love you and if-”

He did not finish, because Felix tugged the ring off the string. His eyes flickered to Dimitri’s own lone eye for a moment still wide and surprised, but there was a small flush on his cheeks now.

Felix’s fingers were shaking when he slipped on the ring, but Dimitri had rarely seen a more mesmerizing sight. The ring was a simple thing, one that Dimitri had had specifically made. He knew Felix would not like an overly intricate ring, but he had been unsure when he had first been presented with it. It was beautiful, but it had not seemed enough to express the importance that it held in Dimitri’s eyes, yet now that he saw it on Felix’s finger, it seemed like a piece of art.

Dimitri tore his eyes away from the sight when Felix moved, stepping closer to Dimitri and letting the sword drop to the floor with a careless move. His hands reached for Dimitri, the ring glinted in the light. 

When Dimitri felt the cold metal on his skin, he smiled up at Felix, still kneeling.

“Felix,” he asked, smiling widely, “Will you marry me?”

Felix smiled back, heat in his cheeks, and tears in his eyes, and he bent down to kiss him. “Of course,” he said, before their lips met. Dimitri tilted his head back, and warped his arms around Felix’s hips. 

The position was awkward with Dimitri still kneeling on the floor, and Felix bending over him, but Dimitri could not remember a time he had last been so blindingly happy. 

As they kissed, the sword lay forgotten on the training ground floor beside them. 

(Then, later that evening when they had retired for the evening, Dimitri spotted Felix carefully checking over his newly acquired blade for damages. When Dimitri turned towards his bookshelf to fetch something, he spotted Felix swinging the sword to test the balance in the window’s reflection. Both the blade and the ring glimmered on his hand. 

The pleasure on Felix’s face - pleasure that he had not quite gotten rid of by the time Dimitri turned around - was almost as apparent as the one he had shown when Dimitri had kissed the ring on his finger.

But that was alright. Dimitri had expected no less. 

Even later, when they went into their bedroom, Felix allowed him to undo his sword belt and set the sword aside carefully. When he turned back to Felix afterwards he was greeted with a heated look. The sword was forgotten until the next moment when Dimitri handed it to Felix as they were getting dressed. It was him and Felix, and the sword of Zoltan. 

Life was great.)


End file.
